


All My Numbers

by sweetiejelly



Category: Glee
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-07
Updated: 2012-11-07
Packaged: 2017-11-18 04:17:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetiejelly/pseuds/sweetiejelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eight years later, at the urging of their friends, Kurt and Blaine try speed dating. It doesn't work. Until it does spectacularly.</p><p>Written for Beth's birthday. Since she liked the 'speed dating' square of my <a href="http://cottoncandy-bingo.dreamwidth.org/">cottoncandy_bingo</a> card, I tried to write to that prompt. Also inspired by the 'makeover' square.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All My Numbers

**Author's Note:**

> Written for brighton_girl for her birthday. This is a year late, but I hope it's okay, Beth. Hope you have a lovely birthday today! <3
> 
> Cross-posted to [LJ](http://sweetiejelly.livejournal.com/180358.html).

Eight years and New York City is still stitching itself one light, one song, one shout at a time into Kurt's heart. He turns 360 in front of the mirror. Yes, a makeover is the right move.

Rachel beams at him. "You look gorgeous," she brushes her hands over his shoulders as she inspects the result. "No. You look _more_ gorgeous," she corrects. " _Stupendous. Luminous._ All the fellows, they're going to be lining up." She segues into song, altering it to fit.

_You are twenty-six going on twenty-seven  
Fellows will fall in line_

Kurt tilts his head and inspects his reflection. "I do feel unprepared. Oh god, Rachel. What am I doing? Why did I sign up? Do you think it's too late to cancel? It’s not, right?"

Rachel props her chin on his shoulder and squeezes him firmly. (And it always surprises Kurt how strong his best friend is. _Ow_ , his inner dialogue supplies.) "You are not going to cancel," Rachel enunciates each word. "You look like a million bucks, babe. And you know what? You are going to slay them all."

Kurt pulls a small smile. "One," he says. "I just want one."

~~

Seven years and L.A. is still far from home. Blaine wakes to the prospect of another day of auditions, another night of bartending and piano crooning at the corner pub.

Mike swirls a cup of coffee through the room as he runs through his new number, too cheerful by half for the hour. "Rise and shine, sleepy head! Remember what today is?"

"A brand new day?" Blaine mumbles, stubbornly keeping his eyes closed.

"Speed dating day!" Mike whoops and finally relents, settling the cup of coffee in Blaine's hand. "Drink up and get up and wash up. Not necessarily in that order."

Blaine groans. Right. That. Years since Lima and he still hasn't a good handle on dating. Does anyone ever, he wonders. Expert dater sounds like an oxymoron. If you're an expert, you'd have found the one. And all the rest trying to find the one are no experts.

"Why did I agree again?"

"You need to meet someone. Maybe then you'll stop pining."

Blaine sips at his coffee and tries not to remember a particular coffee order. He still does though. Like he remembers the boy, his first love, the one Mike accuses him of pining for. Shit. Maybe Mike has a point.

"I do not pine," he says stubbornly as he casts shifty eyes down at the floor.

Mike does some complicated hand-leg-whole body thing that he does that's kind of contortionist and all kind of fly. He chuckles and it's like his whole body illustrates. "Uh-huh," he says. "Wear that ensemble that we talked about. Tina spent a lot of time picking it out."

Blaine looks up at Mike at just the wrong time. Mike's whole face is bathed in sunlight, in smile light. He looks so damn happy that he reminds Blaine of once, of when he... But no, he's not going to do that. He does not pine. He's fine. "I will." He gives Mike his best smile. "Thanks."

~~

Kurt ushers everyone out of the room. It's his room after all. He turns the lock for good measure and wakes up his laptop.

"Dear Kurt," he types out a message to himself. "It's been eight years. Dreaming about your first love is inevitable. It doesn't have to mean anything. But maybe it's time to start looking for your next love. Best of luck."

It feels more final writing it down, which is sort of the point. Kurt nods once to himself and breathes out. He could do this. And after all, aren't blonds supposed to have more fun?

~~

There is a whole outfit set out for him on the living room sofa, like an un-stuffed effigy. Blaine puts it on piece by slow piece. No one has set out clothes for him like this in a long time. Not since... well.

Blaine rolls his eyes a little at himself. No pining. New rule. There is a whole world out there, with new and interesting people. Yes. (Only, a small voice in his head says _but they're not Kurt_.)

He tugs the jacket tighter around himself. This at least feels comfortable, familiar, almost like his Warbler blazer. That was when he... But no. New rule. He’s sticking to it. He could. At least he thinks he could. Oh god, he may need to be drunk for this.

~~

The venue seems relaxed enough, classy and clean. Kurt sips at his drink and eyes the trays of hors d'oeuvres. Maybe if he could just slip over to the other side of the room...

Of course, as he is chewing through a crispy cone of perfection, he feels a tap on his shoulder. "It's time. If you'd follow me."

The rest of the night feels as rushed as that moment. There are so many guys. Some of them are even adorable. There's Lee who looks sixteen and loves playing the piano and reading. There's Donnie who looks like a cowboy dream in his fitted denim and slow, warm smile. There's a Tom who loves dogs and sweaters and dogs in sweaters. There's a Tom number two who loves football and the comedy channel and jogging in the rain.

In the end, Kurt actually has a good night. But he doesn't end up asking for any contact information.

Rachel grips his arms hard and pulls him into a hug. "Oh, Kurt. Do you want to talk about it?"

They make popcorn and snuggle on the bed, shoulder to shoulder in their pajamas. Kurt tells her about Lee who looks way too young. "He's like a baby koala bear. I just want to ruffle his hair and bake him cookies."

He tells her about Donnie who is too South for his North. "He's a total sweetheart but he doesn't know any Broadway, any musicals, at all." Rachel gasps. She totally gets it.

"And Tom number one - I'm just scared that he's going to stitch me a sweater too. In that horrible pattern he calls 'Merry, Merry Little Christmas.'"

"There's a Tom number two?"

"Oh yes, if only he didn’t threaten to throw away every candy bar I ever covet! I mean, god, his diet must be doing him good because oh lord that body. But my candy stash, you know? I need it."

Rachel pets his hair. "At least you tried. And you met some nice, hot guys, right?"

Kurt smiles back at her. "Yeah. At times it was like watching the GQ magazine come to life. And I felt like I was casting the lead in a rom-com. Except no one -" He cuts himself off before he slips. _No one measures up._

"There is _someone_ somewhere out there," Rachel insists. "And you _will_ find him."

~~

Blaine fiddles with the buttons on his jacket and tries to approach the night like an audition. He puts on his best smile and his most patient ears.

Of course, as fate has it, the first guy he sees is Dave. As in Karofsky. Blaine flips through an emotional rolodex. _Wow, wow, wow._

"Small world," Dave offers a small smile.

"Very." Blaine lowers his voice. "So, are you...? How are you doing?"

"Better. A lot better." Dave assures him. “I mean, I’m here, out. Going for it, you know?”

"Good. Good, I'm glad." And Blaine is except his brain is firmly locked on Kurt now and if Kurt is doing well, doing better, and going for it. His head hurts.

"I'm going to leave you my contact info, okay? Just as friends?"

Blaine nods on automatic. "Yeah, yeah, I'll leave you mine."

And just like that, the first round is up and they're moving on to the next guys.

Face after face, body after body blur into the spot opposite his seat. Blaine meets guys like himself, some of whom he's met before on the audition circuit. He meets guys who are nothing like himself, too. In the end, he meets a management type who is too gorgeous for his desk job by half. Jacob, he calls himself. Jacob is tall. Jacob is well dressed. Jacob has pretty dimples and sea glass eyes.

Blaine ends up leaving his contact information for Jacob and Dave. Then he heads home and straight for the fridge, rummaging for a bottle of beer.

"How'd it go?" Mike is like a hound after his target. And he moves like a cat, stealthy and quiet, popping out of nowhere.

Blaine jumps, knocking his shoulder against the fridge door. "Ow."

"Sorry," Mike backs up a step. "So… how'd it go?"

"Guess who I ran into?" Blaine starts and tells Mike all about his night.

"No way!"

But as Blaine goes on, Mike gets quieter and quieter, nodding almost to himself.

"You do realize that this Jacob sounds a lot like..."

"Don't say it."

"...Kurt."

Blaine sighs and fuses his lips to the bottle. This kind of kissing he can do. This and stage kissing. He's become pretty immune. He likes kissing. Girls. Guys. Puppies. Kissing is just a motion, like shaking hands, like folding laundry. 

(Except when it used to be an emotion. When it felt like doing cartwheels and lighting sparklers.)

“He’s not Kurt,” Blaine insists. “He’s a project manager at a tech firm. That’s nothing like Kurt.”

“Okay,” Mike raises an eyebrow and a hand. “If you say so.”

As if to prove it to himself, Blaine goes out with Jacob the weekend after. They sit across the table from each other at an upscale restaurant. The lights are turned low, almost like candle glows. They remind him of a boy once who likes candles. Who has eyes for the dramatic and the stylish. Who has a voice and a presence that commands attention and speaks to him, to his soul. Blaine cuts himself off. No. No pining.

He carries a conversation with Jacob, half decently, if he does say so himself. And when dinner ends and they end up driving to a theater to take in a movie, Blaine asks suddenly, “do you sing?”

Jacob ducks his head. “Can robots dance? I mean, not really.”

“Oh.” Blaine nods, trying not to be disappointed. He loves to duet but he loves having the solos, too. He croons a few lines.

_Made a wrong turn, once or twice_  
 _Dug my way out, blood and fire_  
 _Bad decisions, that’s all right_  
 _Welcome to my silly life_

Jacob shifts in his seat. “’Perfect’ by Pink, right? I love her.”

“Yeah, me too,” Blaine looks out the window, still humming to himself.

“You have a great voice,” Jacob settles a hand on Blaine’s knee.

Blaine startles but leans into the touch. He could do this. Maybe. 

Only, he’s picturing Kurt’s hands around his face when Jacob kisses him good night.

~~

Kurt goes out on a few (more) blind dates that Rachel sets up for him until he’s really just had enough. “I can’t. I love you, Rachel, but no more. This last guy? Evan? Is even more blond than I am,” he taps the side of his head, “and so…handsy. And he tastes like sawdust. Drunken sawdust.”

“I guess you don’t want any fries with that, huh?”

“Rachel! Don’t even joke. It’s my life. I don’t want to rush it and kiss all these frogs.”

“Okay, okay.” She backs off and careens into a new topic. “So, I talked to Mr. Schuester today. What do you say to a Glee club reunion? Quinn just passed her bar exam, so we have that to celebrate. And I hear Mike and Tina are engaged! ”

“Oh,” Kurt stops in the middle of mindlessly folding laundry. “Is… everyone going to be there?”

Rachel stares at him. “You mean is Blaine going to be there. And I don’t know. It’s just an idea at this point. We still need to figure out the logistics – date and time and venue and everything.”

“Right.” Kurt tries to ignore the way his heart kicks up, all question marks and exclamations. This is still a hypothetical. He shouldn’t hyperventilate over a hypothetical. Right?

??!!??!!

~~

Blaine sees Jacob a couple more times until Jacob figures him out. “So, who is it?”

“What?” Blaine stops in the middle of pouring coffee into two mugs.

“Your one who got away.”

“Oh,” Blaine winces. “That obvious?”

Jacob shrugs. “Kinda.”

“Sorry?”

“Don’t be.” Jacob gives him a peck, for the last time, Blaine knows. “This was fun. I never had anyone serenade me before. So, thank you for that.”

They say goodbye amiably. Blaine thinks about Kurt, about how they never did say goodbye. They never wanted to.

~~

Kurt watches Rachel running into Quinn’s arms, glee in her every pore. It makes him smile. They’ve all come such a long way.

“Kurt, my man!” Puckerman hugs him and thumps him hard on his back. “I’m so proud of you, Mr. Big Shot.”

Kurt blushes and pushes off to breathe. “I just run a blog and a small section of a magazine. It’s no big deal.”

“Dude, shut up and let me be proud of you.”

Kurt smiles back, still blushy but warm now, too. His former bully has become his anti-bully and he feels like maybe the world is right side up and beautiful.

And then he catches sight of Mike and Tina and Blaine, walking in the door of Breadstix together. His feels ratchet up in scale, from beautiful to blindingly so.

Blaine catches his eyes and Kurt marvels that those eyes could still get to him like they were together yesterday, lovers and soul mates just yesterday. Blaine walks up to him and hugs him tight, “Hey.”

Kurt could only hang on and hug back. “Hi.”

“You’re blond.” Blaine blurts as he pulls back and inspects Kurt.

Kurt laughs. “I’m blond.”

Blaine leans close and whispers. “It’s like that one fantasy we talked about.”

And Kurt knows exactly which fantasy that is. His breath hitches and his eyes dart down to take in Blaine’s lips. He licks his own automatically.

Eight years and it’s like time doesn’t matter, like it’s just a letter, the infinity symbol, ducking back, nipping tail.

He shakes out of his reverie when Mike and Tina cocoon him in a group hug, one on each side of him, twin exclamations of ‘Kurt!’ in his ears.

~~

Blaine watches him through the night, follows him with his eyes as they eat and drink and croon.

All the gang is here and there’s no shortage of people to talk to, to catch up with. Still, Kurt is the one spot his eyes keep returning to, the opposite of a blind spot. Kurt is all he sees.

“Puppy face,” Santana jabs a red fingernail at him. “Go sing a duet with Blondie. Or go get a room. Or sing together and _then_ get a room.”

Blaine blinks. Why didn’t he think of that? He’s sung with Rachel for old time’s sake. He should sing with Kurt. He has to.

“What song are –” Mercedes doesn’t get to finish her sentence.

“Perfect,” they answer as one.

~~

It’s not perfect. Nothing is. But it’s a close thing. Kurt feels like he’s in a picture book, the one about Lima eight years ago. The one that has them driving in the car singing this same song. The one that has stars in their eyes and stars in their futures, that has a happily ever after slapped on the last page.

Kurt stares at Blaine staring at him. There’s no disguise in Blaine’s eyes and Kurt finds himself a little breathless from nothing at all to do with the song. It’s this boy. It’s always been this boy. Man now, he supposes. Blaine has light scruff on his face and it does things to Kurt’s inside. It scoops all his wanting out of its shell.

He hardly hears the applause. He hardly registers anything at all as he excuses himself to go to the men’s room.

“Kurt,” Blaine’s voice is raspy, questioning, from where he’s standing by the bathroom door. One of his hands is propping the door open, like giving him an out.

Kurt doesn’t want an out. He looks over and something in his eyes must give him away. Blaine drops his arm and takes two hopping steps towards him. Kurt finds his hands hot around Blaine’s face, pressing the scruff to his palms so that it burns. It burns everywhere.

Blaine’s hands are on his back, holding him close, almost as if they’re about to dance. And in a way they are. “I…” Blaine starts and stops.

Kurt darts his eyes up, silently encouraging. _Yes?_

“You’re my one who got away. You know how I know?”

Kurt could only shake his head, too overwhelmed to speak.

“Everyday something reminds me of you. Coffee. Bow ties. A song on the radio. Cake. And every big thing that happened in the world at large or in my world – I wanted to talk to you about it and hear what you think. I’d dream about you and then I’d hate waking up.”

“You hate waking up anyway,” Kurt smiles into his words. “You never were a morning person, Blaine.”

“True. But mornings are a lot worse without you there. _A lot_ worse. Mornings and noons and nights. Every day.” Blaine presses his forehead to Kurt’s. “I’ve missed you so much and – no one else makes me feel the way you do. I think I’m still in love with you, Kurt. I think I might always be.”

Kurt doesn’t trust himself to speak. He presses his lips to Blaine’s, softly at first, innocent. And then his fingers curl, his toes curl. He grabs Blaine and backs him up against a sink. This is another of their fantasy, and he knows the exact moment when Blaine remembers, too. There’s moaning and then a tangling of tongues and then Kurt’s gone. All of his control snaps.

“I dreamt about you, too,” he confesses and then his breath is lost to kissing and pulling closer, being pulled closer.

“Just tell me we’re not dreaming right now.”

“We’re not,” Kurt pulls back frustrated. “If we were, there would be a lock on that door and supplies and-and no buttons on us.”

“I like your buttons.” Blaine sucks on Kurt’s tongue to make a point.

“Nngh,” Kurt says, as eloquent as he could be at the moment.

“Let’s get out of here,” Blaine moves his lips to the line of Kurt’s neck, which doesn’t help.

“Blaine.” Kurt laughs, just a little giddy about it all and needing to say this one thing before they strip down to nothing. “I – I tried other people.”

Blaine stills in his arms, listening.

“And I’ve decided that while I needed to, I hated it. No one fits that glass slipper, you know?”

“Are we talking shoe sizes now? Kinky.”

Kurt laughs against then kisses at Blaine’s jaw line. “You’re silly. You’re lovely.” His breath is breathy and he doesn’t care. “Your voice makes me come undone. Blaine Anderson, I don’t think I’m done with you yet.”

“I hope you’re never done with me, Kurt,” Blaine says solemnly, a little too solemnly.

Kurt couldn’t help teasing him. “Why? Do you need a lot of doing?”

“God, Kurt, your mouth.”

They crash together with curls of fingers clutching, in another kiss, and another and another.

~~

They make it to Kurt’s car. They make it to the back seat of Kurt’s car and Blaine gets to remember all over again how flexible Kurt is.

He fuses his lips to Kurt’s, unwilling to leave the wet suckling warmth. But eventually a thought niggles at him like a rock in a shoe and he pulls back reluctantly. “Kurt.”

He smiles when Kurt just chases his mouth stubbornly and kisses him again. “Kurt,” he tries one more time.

That puts Kurt on alert. He pulls back, eyes still unfocused, fucking gorgeous. “What’s wrong?”

“L.A.,” he manages to get out. “New York. We’re even further apart this time.”

Kurt breathes shallow and licks his lips and swallows. “We’re older and wiser and no one else –”

“- fits like you do,” Blaine finishes for him. 

“We’ll make it work,” Kurt all but swears it. “Have I told you how many frequent flier miles I’ve racked up? And while I still can’t promise to always pick up your calls, I can promise I will always return them.”

It’s been years and yet Blaine’s heart still reacts. _He loves me._ “I love you. You’re right. We’ll make it work. I’ll audition for gigs in New York. And anyway, I can’t keep living with Mike. Tina might get jealous.”

“Not to mention your boyfriend Kurt.”

Blaine smoothes his hands over Kurt’s thighs, split a wide v over him at the moment. “Really?” His hands keep moving, nervous and…nervous.

Kurt covers Blaine’s hands with his own. “Yes. I want to date you. Just you. Again.”

“I will woo your socks off,” Blaine promises as he interlaces his fingers with Kurt’s.

Kurt laughs, the sound sweet against Blaine’s cheeks. “I think you’re already half way there.”

“Kurt,” Blaine looks at him seriously. “This is more doing than wooing, but I promise you I’ll get to the wooing.”

Kurt jerks against him, thighs sliding up wider, breaths coming out heavier. “Get to doing, Anderson.”

And Blaine, Blaine lets his fingers, his lips, his whole person woo the do off of Kurt. The heel of his palm fits over the tight black trousers. His fingers fit under. His heart beats faster and faster, quiet thunders.

~~

_Two years later_

Blaine hovers in that blissful state between asleep and fully awake. An arm slings heavy over his body, hand coming to rest warm on his chest. He smiles as an exhale transforms into a kiss, light against the back of his neck.

Another kiss and he lets his hand slide up into the hand over his heart, clutching it up to his lips to kiss. “Mornin’.”

“Morning to you too.” The kisses keep coming, warm and tingly over his neck. “Remember what today is?”

Blaine tries really hard to think. It can’t be time already for him to leave to film his sitcom in L.A. It can’t be time already for Kurt to leave either, to Paris for a fashion show.

“A day off with my beautiful boyfriend in our lovely apartment in Brooklyn?”

Kurt laughs, his breath ticklish against Blaine’s neck. “Well, that too.”

Blaine turns around fully to look at Kurt. “Did I forget…?”

“Yes,” Kurt says solemnly before breaking into a grin. “It’s speed dating day.”

Blaine laughs. Right. That. It’s become a tradition now, for the two of them to spend five minutes together each year pretending not to know each other.

“Hi,” Blaine starts, holding out his hand (at an awkward angle now from where he’s pinned under Kurt), “my name is Blaine. I’m a singer who acts. I’m the youngest child and I need a lot of attention. I like blazers and football and hair gel. I like going to the theater, whether it’s for movies or musicals or plays. I like coffee. I like cookies. I like men. I think I like you.”

Kurt definitely does not giggle as Blaine kisses at his neck as he says the last part. He clears his throat. “Well, Blaine. My name is Kurt. I was an only child for a long time before my only parent, my dad, got married again and brought me a lovely step-mother and step-brother. I’m a fashion editor at some magazine you might have heard of. It’s exciting to showcase new talents. Not to brag, but I have a few of my own.”

Blaine wriggles his eyebrows at this. Kurt bites his lips and blushes abut keeps going.

“I love to sing, especially with great singers. One of my best friends is a Broadway legend in the making. Another is climbing the charts with her new soulful gospel-pop album. And my best male friend? He’s in a sitcom.”

Kurt looks flushed and so proud that Blaine’s chest aches in the best way.

“I love to cook, too, because that way I know exactly what goes into my body – shut up! – and I get to eat my favorite things. Shut up, oh my god!”

But it’s a lost cause. Blaine is doubled over in laughter and Kurt is right there with him.

When they catch their breath, Blaine hugs Kurt to him. “You sound like someone I want to date, someone I want to keep forever. How about you give me your number?”

“Dork,” Kurt kisses him. “You have all my numbers.”


End file.
